


don't steal my words

by kagako



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Fluff, M/M, i tried to make this as sweet as possible i rly need some sweet stuff rn........., le.....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:23:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2264391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagako/pseuds/kagako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gon is skilled at stealing his thoughts, too, voicing them as Killua works up the courage and the nerve to even wonder if it would be too much for Gon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't steal my words

**Author's Note:**

> i dont rly have any notes for this so just enjoy!! i really needed some sweet killugons after everythin that's been happening ahaha.... i've actually had this 90% done for months now but school has started and i'm really lazy with my writing lately so Le.... here we go.

Killua loves the feel of Gon’s skin—all the small freckles and tiny, seemingly transparent scars it holds. It’s amazing, he thinks, how soft and warm the other boy’s skin is— _not just his skin, though_ , Killua corrects himself in mid-thought, tilts his head as he allows his hands to wander up Gon’s arms, to follow to curve of his shoulder’s only to bury his fingers deep within Gon’s hair, and he ruffles it, ignores the small huffs of breath that comes from Gon as he does so. _This is soft, too,_ Killua muses, and all too soon he’s leaning toward, bumping their noses and giving small, delicate kisses to the skin of Gon’s face, the softness of his hair, the heat that rises in his cheeks—and the huffs of breath soon disappear, replaced with small huffs of laughter, instead.

(The feel of Gon’s skin is even better, Killua thinks, when the other boy is laughing: _warmer,_ he decides, _much warmer than ever_.)

Gon is laughing, head thrown back and it leaves Killua’s eyesight with an exposed neck—and he knows how easy, how simple it would be to make everything much warmer than before, and it only leaves Killua to tilt his head and roll his eyes at himself because _i don’t much like the color of red on Gon._ Instead, he leans forward once more, lets his nose graze against the increasing pulse under the other boy’s skin. Killua trails his hands upward again, fingertips only slightly grazing the skin of Gon’s arms (—and Killua gives a small sigh, the warmth and Gon himself, even, making his mind seem rush together in every direction).

(He gets dizzy, a lot, when he’s by Gon’s side—something about him, Killua knows, making him feel as though intoxicated.)

Killua rubs his forehead against Gon’s, a small haze in his brain as he tilts his head left and right so his lips can brush against patches of Gon’s skin. He can feel his eyelashes mingle slightly with Gon’s whenever he moves his head, and Killua isn’t sure if he imagines Gon’s airy sing-song of _butterfly, butterfly, butterfly kisses_ or if the other had really done it or not. Either way, Killua figures it’s okay—Gon’s voice as well as his warmth is making him content enough, the feel of their legs brushing against one another making his pulse quicken more so than he thought and hoped. He feels Gon’s hand, too, mingle in his hair, and Killua smiles as he feels lips—soft, warm—against his forehead.

“I was thinking, Killua,” Gon says, his eyes bright and his smile playful when Killua finally opens his eyes, taking in the other boy. “You’re really soft—and warm.”

(Gon is skilled at stealing his thoughts, too, voicing them as Killua works up the courage and the nerve to even wonder if it would be too much for Gon.)

“I—diot,” Killua replies, and he trails his hand upward, pinching Gon’s nose as he narrows his eyes at the other boy. “That’s not fair of you, Gon,” he continues, giving a little pout of his own as he rolls over, and he stares at the wall as he hears Gon groan behind him—and soon Gon’s flinging himself onto Killua, loud and obnoxious whines escaping his lips.

“ _Whaa—t?”_ Gon says, and soon he lets out a yelp, flinging his hand up to rub at the spot on his cheek that Killua had pinched. “How am I not fair, Killua? Hm?” he asks, fingertips like feathers as they skim across the skin of Killua’s arm.

“You aren’t _any_ fair, Gon,” Killua replies, narrowing his eyes as he pushes Gon off him, rolling over so he’s laid on his back. Like this, the boy crosses his arms, ignoring the feel of Gon settling atop him again. Killua squeezes his eyes shut, giving small huffs of breath out his nose as the other boy straddles him, puts his hands in Killua’s hair only to mess it up even moreso than it was before. _“Gon.”_ Still, the other boy fluffs Killua’s hair, leaning down to press his lips against Killua’s forehead—only to trail over to his temples and side downward to kiss at the dark circles, the bridge of his nose.

“How’m I not any fair, Killua?”

(And Killua has to resist the urge to roll his eyes, to purse his lips and tell Gon that he’s an idiot—and it’s hard to resist this, Killua thinks, it really is, but nonetheless—)

“You always steal what I’m gonna say—it’s not any fair, really, to have what I’m gonna say thrown out when I’m not even the o—“

“But I already know, Killua,” Gon interrupts then, forehead against the other boy’s collarbone. “I already know, so there’s no need to say!”

Killua narrows his eyes, his hand snaking upward to grab a fist full of Gon’s hair—and he isn’t surprised when Gon protests, makes whines and small groans in the back of his throat as Killua pulls him by the hair. It leaves the tanner boy to extend his arms on either side of Killua’s shoulders for support, and the sigh that leaves his mouth is filled to the brim with relief once Killua’s hand releases the grip on his hair. “Killua, that _h_ —“

“B-Be _quiet!_ ” Killua tells him, fingers gripping at the pillow behind his head—and he attempts to smother it in Gon’s face, he really does, but his reflexes fumble as Gon’s fingers lock around his wrist. Another laugh rings out from Gon’s lips, and Killua seems to scowl even moreso than before as Gon tosses the pillow to the side.

“That was cute, Killua,” Gon tells him, tugging the other boys hands to his face—and Killua almost protests. He almost tells Gon off, almost tells him to get in the other bed, almost flicks Gon’s forehead and he almost repeats the words _you aren’t_ any _fair._ Instead, he lets Gon kiss at his hands and he lets the other boy entwine their fingers, and Killua hates the flush of heat that spreads across his cheeks as Gon mentions how perfectly their fingers fit in between each others.

Killua squeezes Gon’s hand, his lips set in a purse as he nods. “Yeah. They fit perfectly, Gon,” and the smile Gon gives him is worth the embarrassment of his words, Killua figures.


End file.
